Page 18 of Good Duke Gone Wild

As torturous as it was, he let his mind count his follies. Initiating a conversation. Being roped into a dance for God’s sakes. The liquor. The kiss…and more. And then this? He was beginning to think that someone had taken his gut hostage and was giving out new orders.

That was the only plausible explanation for him being here withheronhisship.

Well…there was one other possible scenario.

She was a Siren. Not just in a not-so-discreet nickname either, but a real honest to God, walking on two legs, Siren.

Hooting laughter shook him from his contemplations. Double damn. His men were drinking on deck.

That settled it.

Turning to the Sir—Agatha, he said, “You’ve got to go.”

“But you said I could see the ship?”

“That was before I knew my men would be having a drunken party.” He gripped his hair and muttered to himself as he stared out into the inky darkness, barely able to distinguish the sea from the sky. “On the night we’re supposed to leave. Those bastards.” Hadn’t he sent them instructions? He scratched his jaw, unable to remember.

He turned back around to grab Aggie by the shoulders and send her packing, but his line of sight was met with an emptiness that shouldn’t have been there.

“Aggie?” he hissed, his eyes darting around. Was the damn chit trying to hide again? Delay her inevitable departure? Searching, he took a few steps toward a large bundle of ropes.

Then a door creaked and he whirled around to see her making an escape down the steps toward the cabins.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he grumbled and went after her. This woman—lady or no—needed to be taught a lesson.

Of course in his less than sober state, he nearly tripped down the stairs. Never in all his years aboard a ship had he ever stumbled on the stairs. Damn! That’s what bringing a woman aboard did. He had to get her off. Now. His cock twitched at the thought roaring in his head.

Get her off—off the ship, that is.

Just before she could open a tiny door and potentially lock herself in a room, he snatched her upper arm and dragged her down the narrow corridor into his own cabin.

Without a care, he tossed her toward his bed. She would land softly. All right, so he had given it a care.

“Argh! What do you think you’re doing? You need to get off now. Off this ship!”

“Why are you yelling? I know I need to get off. You—

“Off this ship,” he roared, knowing he sounded like a lunatic at this point.

“What?”

“You need to get off this ship.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that I need to get off…this ship.” She was staring at him with wide, innocent eyes. Studious of his reaction. Testing her words as she spoke them so as not to set him off again.

“I need a drink.” He didn’t. But he reached for the bottle tucked away in one of his drawers anyway. He slammed a glass on the table and poured. Bringing it to his lips, he glared at her over the rim. She should be shaking in her little slippers. She wasn’t.

That drove him to slam the drink down his throat.

He answered her questioning eyes. “I’ll have as many as I want.” Knowing that was his idiocy speaking too loudly, he took a smaller gulp from the second glass. “When I’m done this,” he lifted the glass into the air, directing it at her for God only knew what reason, “you’re going home.”

She crossed her arms across her waist, inadvertently pushing her breasts up. And what should have been his sturdy stance—feet just over shoulder width apart (and his shoulders were wide) with knees ever so subtly bent—was not so sturdy. Because damn those breasts. And that pouty mouth of hers. He wanted to see it wrapped around his cock.

Nearly cracking the glass, he punched it back down on the table.

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